


High Hopes

by MasieGrey



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, Asra (The Arcana) Route Spoilers, F/M, I also put individual warnings before each chapter that reference things like self harm, M/M, Pre-Canon, Self-Harm, Slow SLOW burn Muriel x Apprentice, also also i dont know how commas work pls dont at me, i will keep updating tags as more characters are added, pls leave me comments i dont know what im doing and i need guidance or validation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-28 05:36:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19387576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MasieGrey/pseuds/MasieGrey
Summary: Muriel has only ever had two friends: Asra and Adalaide. When Adalaide comes back from the dead, he doesn't know how to feel. He want's to feel the way Asra does- thrilled at the return of his friend, but he can't shake the wrongness of the situation. He had buried her not long ago, and now she's back and he has to figure out how to cope with her return. But something is wrong, she's not the same person he knew. She doesn't remember him and Asra. Asra seems convinced he can help her, rehabilitate her, but Muriel is still skeptical.





	1. Welcome Home

Asra walked quickly through the forest, a torrent of thoughts swirling through his head. He stopped at the threshold of the forest hut and took a deep breath. His eyes traced the limbs of the tree that formed the foundation of the house. He remembered what an undertaking it was to help Muriel build this place. It took weeks to build up walls and roof underneath the massive tree and its exposed roots, but it was beyond worth it if it meant Muriel could finally get far away from the city. Adalaide had helped them sometimes, bringing them supplies from town or the shop.  _ Adalaide!  _ Asra remembered why he was there and snapped out of his memory. He knocked on the door twice and placed a palm to it to pass through the ward, then pushed it open. 

Muriel was seated near the fire, carving away at something that had not taken shape yet. Inanna was sprawled out on the floor in front of him, occasionally snuffling away wood shavings that had fallen near her face. Muriel looked up at Asra as he entered. 

“Muriel I need your help.”

Muriel set down his project and sat up straighter, “What with?”

Asra shuffled his feet and bounced on his toes a bit. It was very unlike Asra to be so squirmy. He was typically very composed, even under pressure. But now he was fidgeting and not making eye contact. His eyes kept roving the room as if searching for the words on the walls. 

“Adalaide is back,” he said finally.

Muriel squinted hard at his friend standing before him, fidgeting like a little kid. “What do you mean she’s  _ back _ ,” he said, his deep voice hard with concern. 

“I mean she’s  _ back _ , Muriel. She’s  _ alive _ . I saw her. I  _ touched  _ her. I brought her back, Muriel!”

“What are you talking about? How could you have brought her back?” Muriel stood up. If he was eager to see proof of what Asra meant, he did not let it show. 

“I… Well I may have made a deal with the Magician…” Asra let his voice trail. 

Muriel’s shoulders fell as he looked at Asra with deep concern. A deal with an Arcana was not to be made lightly. “What have you done, Asra?” he asked with a deep sigh. 

“I did what I had to,” Asra snapped back without hesitation. “It’s my fault she died, I had to do something! So when the opportunity came, I took it.” His face was rigid. He had not expected his friend to be thrilled about his deal with the Arcana but he had not expected obsitance either. He searched Muriel’s face. His friend had not spoken but seemed to be expecting a better explanation. “I don’t remember a lot of specifics about the deal. I assume it had to have been with the Magician because he’s my patron but I don’t remember having the conversation.

“I woke up this morning with a mark on my chest,” Asra pulled back part of his shirt to reveal a glowing mark of concentric circles and points that loosely resembled a compass. “When I touched it I felt _ her _ . I felt a connection again, like we used to have. I didn’t know what it meant so I just let it guide me. It lead me all the way to the spot where we… Where  _ you  _ buried her.”  _ Because I couldn’t bear to _ , Asra finished the thought in his mind. “When I walked up Adalaide was laying there on the ground, unconscious but alive. I touched her, Muriel. It’s really her. And I need your help to move her somewhere safe,” Asra implored. 

Muriel had been silent through Asra’s whole recount of events and he looked hesitant to speak. When he finally did, he said: “Asra, it wasn’t your fault.”

“Of course it was. If I had just insisted. If I had taken her with me and not been so… Weak-willed… I could have protected her…” Asra trailed off. He looked close to tears. The memories of the horror of finding out what happened to Adalaide were still very fresh and difficult to face. 

Muriel had made his way towards the door and stepped through. He thumbed a protective charm he had in his pocket. He looked to Asra and swung his head in the direction of the grave site. Asra moved quickly to follow him. 

They walked in silence for twenty minutes and stopped when they reached a small grove of trees covered in moss and lichen. The whole area was a deep green-turning-yellow and the way the light dappled through the trees made it feel magical. Wild sweet pea climbed up some of the trees and forget-me-nots grew in little clumps around the grove.  _ Her favorite place _ , Muriel thought, as he shook away the memories of burying the only other friend, besides Asra, he’d ever had. 

Sitting in the middle of the trees, looking up with a bemused look in her eyes and a wide grin, was a woman with silvery-blonde hair. She had not noticed them enter the grove as she was busy running a fern frond through her fingers and gazing at the way the early autumn wind pushed around the newly-changing leaves of the trees.

“Adalaide!” Asra cried and rushed over to her. He had not expected her to be awake and he could not contain himself when he saw her. It was so nice to confirm that she truly was  _ alive _ . 

When she saw Asra running clear towards her, Adalaide rushed backwards in an awkward crab shuffle and let out a half-squeak, half-scream. This made Asra stop. He hesitantly lowered himself to crouch at her level, about five feet away from where she was. 

“Laide?” he said softly, “Are you okay?”

The woman looked at him, brown eyes wide and frightened. Her mouth hung open in shock. She continued to scoot away from him, backing herself against a tree. She was shaking but Asra did not know if it was from the cool breeze, or from fear. 

Asra reached his hand out towards her, “Adalaide… Do you… know who I am?” he asked her softly. She shook her head vigorously and pushed her back harder against the tree. She made a noise, but it did not resemble a word. She squeezed her eyes shut and turned her head away from Asra, whimpering softly. She repeated the same noise again. 

Asra turned around to where he had left Muriel standing and shot him a desperate look. He rose and walked slowly back towards Muriel. Adalaide continued to screw her eyes shut. 

“I… I don’t think she remembers me. I also don’t think she remembers how to speak, but I think she can understand me.” Asra sighed and put one hand to his forehead in exasperation. “I thought it was strange that I couldn’t remember the specifics of my deal but I’m beginning to think losing memories is a big part of it.” 

They both glanced across the glade at Adalaide who was now staring back at them, still pressed awkwardly against the tree. “What do we do?” Muriel asked looking concerned. 

“I don’t know, but we can’t leave her here.” 

Asra walked back towards Adalaide, Muriel following hesitantly behind him. Adalaide watched in awe as they approached, eyes wide and watching Muriel’s every move. Muriel blushed red under the scrutiny.

“I think she likes you,” Asra said with a smirk, before crouching down beside the woman. She didn’t even look in his direction. She was too busy gaping at the massive man standing before her. “Try talking to her,” Asra suggested. 

Muriel blushed again, but knelt down about a foot in front of Adalaide. He looked at her, barefoot and dressed in a dirty white dress. He assumed it must be a nurses uniform.  _ The last thing she ever wore. _ The thought sent a chill down his spine.

He held out his hand to her, as if beckoning a lost cat. It was all he could think to do. “Addie,” he said. He was the only one who ever called her Addie, and he secretly hoped it might help jog her memory. 

Adalaide just looked at him. She was no longer pressing herself into the tree behind her as though she intended to melt into it, but there was still tenseness in the way she carried herself. She tentatively let her hand touch his. Muriel searched her face for a flash of recognition when their fingers brushed but he saw no change in her expression. Her hand was small in his and felt just like he remembered. 

His breath shuddered. It had been so hard coming to terms with Addie’s death and the pain and guilt that had come with the knowledge of her passing. There were so many things he had carried with him for so long that she had helped him bear the weight of. She had brought new color and light into his and Asra’s lives. Now she was cowering in front of him, devoid of memories and dressed in the clothes she died in. It was too much. 

“This feels wrong, Asra,” Muriel said, looking at his friend who was tense with desperation. “She… She shouldn’t be here.”

“I know it’s weird and it didn’t happen like I had expected it to but… She’s really here. And we can make this better. We can help her get her memories back. I can teach her to speak and read and write again. I can do it, I know I can. This wasn’t a mistake.” Asra’s eyes were glittering hopefully, but Muriel noticed the tears that came a second later. 

Adalaide was looking at Asra, watching him hang his head and try to keep from crying. She crawled hesitantly towards him. He looked up at her, tears streaming down his cheeks. She kept shaking her head and humming “mm-mmn” at him. She reached towards him and placed her hands on his face. She cleared away his tears, still humming softly. 

Asra froze when she touched his face. He looked at her in shock, while she looked, almost objectively, at his face. He started smiling and she sat back on her heels and smiled back at him. Asra looked at Muriel with a grin, and Muriel returned his look with a faint smile of his own. 

“Laide, will you come home?” Asra asked her. She looked at him uncomprehendingly for a moment. “Do you understand me?” he tried. 

She nodded slowly and pointed at Asra and then at Muriel. “Hhhh… Hhh- hh-” she stuttered, the sounds coming like heavy breaths, “ohh...mmm.” She looked confused and frustrated at the sounds she was making. 

“Yes! Come home!” 

“H-hooohmme,” she said again, a little closer to the mark this time. 

  
  


Asra and Muriel stood. Muriel held his hand out to her again, “Can you… stand?”

She took his hand and let herself be pulled to her feet. She swayed a bit upon rising, but kept her footing, still holding tight to Muriel’s hand. She followed his lead and took a step forward. Her knees buckled and she tumbled forward. Muriel caught her and steadied her. She looked flustered but determined. She took another step and the same thing happened. She tried again and again, each time not making it more than a step before she would fall and Muriel would catch her. On the twelfth try she groaned loudly and rolled her eyes. She balled her fist and stamped her foot. 

Asra placed a hand on her shoulder and she looked back at him. “Laide, its okay if you can’t do it yet.” 

She made a frustrated noise and kicked her leg forward, as if for emphasis. 

“You think you should be able to do it? Or you want to do it but you can’t?” Asra asked. Adalaide nodded vigorously and shook her foot again. “Will you let Muriel carry you home?” Asra asked her. She contemplated this for a moment before nodding her head and letting herself be lifted up. She watched over Muriel’s shoulder as the grove grew distant behind them.

* * *

  
  


In the magic shop, Asra sat on a chair at the table in the kitchenette and Muriel leaned against the counter. They were both watching Adalaide, sitting on the floor in front of the fire. Faust was slithering happily around her shoulders and down her arms. Faust had absorbed a lot of Asra’s pain at the loss of Adalaide and was acutely aware of the changes in his mood. The snake was just as thrilled as Asra to see the familiar face. 

“She looks so much like Addie,” Muriel whispered. 

“That’s because it  _ is _ her, Muriel,” Asra said. 

Muriel huffed. They had returned to the shop and brought Adalaide up to her room. Asra struggled with what to do with the shop after she had died. When he returned home to find her gone, there were papers and books strewn all over the shop. He had cleaned up the main shop and the kitchen, but he wouldn’t dream of getting rid of any of her stuff. So he packed up what he found in boxes and left them in the attic of the shop. Her room remained completely untouched, as Asra couldn’t bear to be in there for more than a minute or two at a time. He watered the plants in her windows when he remembered, but the sadness he felt when he entered the room was oppressive. Asra lacked the botanical touch of his friends and the plants looked leggy and neglected. The door had been kept mostly shut since her death, but Asra opened it up again and Muriel set Adalaide down on her bed. 

She gazed around the room for a long time, taking in all of the paintings on the walls, the pillows on the floor, the books and papers on the desk, and the shelves filled with candles and bottles and bones and feathers and crystals. She ran her hands over her cool sheets when her hand found a scrap of blue. She tugged on the fabric until a small blanket came untangled from the rest of the sheets and bedding. It was small and quilted. It was too small to cover her and looked better suited for swaddling an infant, but Adalaide clutched it like it was made of gold. She held it to her face and inhaled deeply. When she looked up again, there was a new light in her eyes and she grinned at Asra and Muriel. “Hhh… oh… me,” she tripped through the word again. 

Asra nodded and grinned back at her, “You’re home, Laide.” 

At Muriel’s insistence, he turned away so Asra could help Adalaide change out of the clothes they had found her in. Muriel could hear Asra talking her through everything he was doing and asking her several times if she was okay with that. He had no doubt that Asra would be capable of rehabilitating her, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling of wrongness surrounding the whole situation. He had barely had enough time to come to terms with her death before she was pulled from the grave and thrust back into his life. He wasn’t ready. He needed time. 

Asra walked out of the room with the bundle of clothes Adalaide had been wearing. 

“You should burn those,” Muriel said, looking at the white smock in Asra’s hands. Asra looked uncomfortable at the suggestion. 

“I can’t… They’re hers,” He said weakly. 

“They’re the clothes she died in. It’s a nurses uniform,” Muriel said coldly, still glaring at the bundle as if he could set it on fire with his gaze alone, “She doesn’t need it anymore.”

Asra paled as he looked at the fabric in his arms. He silently walked to the fireplace and dumped the bundle in. It caught quickly and blazed brightly on top of the fire wood. Asra walked away from it quickly. He heard a frustrated groan from Adalaide’s room.

“Laide, what is it?” Asra asked, rushing back into the room. He found her sitting on the floor and glowering. She stamped her feet on the ground and screamed in exasperation.

“What is it? Is she okay?” Muriel asked. 

“She’s frustrated that she can’t walk. Laide, you’re going to have to practice before you can walk on your own again.” Asra said, helping her off the floor. He stood there with her hands in his own, and walked her step by step into the living area. He was patient with her, and every time she stumbled, he would stop and let her get her bearings, encouraging her the whole time. He didn’t know how long it took to get her to the fireplace, but it felt like a long time.

Adalaide became aware of the two people watching her play with Faust and shuffled uncomfortably under the scrutiny. She let Faust slide off of her arm and across the room to Asra. Having nothing to do with her hands, she started wiggling her fingers, as if testing them out. Then she started rocking back and forth in her spot and humming to herself. 

Asra came and sat down across from her on the floor. “Laide, is everything okay?”

Adalaide shook her head. She began running her nails over her arms and legs. She looked up at Asra and tried to speak. “Rrrr… On… G…” she labored through the sounds, as she ran her hands up and down her arms. “I… Mmm… R… Ong.” She looked frantically at Asra and then at Muriel who was still keeping his distance. 

Asra’s heart fell to his stomach when he pieced together what she meant. _I’m wrong_. Asra lifted both of Adalaide’s hands in his own and looked her in the eye. “You’re not wrong, Laide. You’re perfect. And you won’t feel like this forever. I’m going to help you.” 

She looked at him wearily. She pointed back towards her room. 

“Would you like to sleep?” 

Adalaide nodded and looked to Muriel. Muriel walked over to her but stopped. She was looking up at him with big brown eyes, holding her arms up like a child waiting to be carried. 

_ We were sitting at the edge of a creek, not far from the hut. Addie was surrounded by the flowers she had been picking as we walked. She was weaving the stems into a crown, adding long blades of grass when the stems were not long enough to tie. She scrutinized the final product and nodded in satisfaction before reaching over and putting it on my head.  _

_ “I’m tired of walking,” she said, “Muri, will you carry me home?” I laughed a little but she was serious. She looked at me with her doe eyes, her arms raised up. She was waiting for me to carry her. She smirked at me as I lifted her up. She settled her head against my shoulder and leaned her whole body into mine. “Thank you,” she let the words carry like a song. Then she kissed me on the cheek.  _

Muriel looked down at the... _ person _ in front of him. It wasn’t Addie. He lifted her up and she laid her head on his chest. The hair on the back of his neck bristled. He carried her to her room and practically dumped her into bed. 

“Muriel, are you alright? You look like you just saw a ghost,” Asra said.

“I’ve been looking at one all day,” Muriel replied bitterly. “I’m going home.”

“Are you really so freaked out by her now?” Asra asked, hands on his hips. He walked in front of Muriel to position himself in front of the door of the shop. 

“Of course I am,” Muriel stopped in front of Asra. “I  _ buried  _ her. Or what was left of her, and now she’s back from the dead. Asra, can’t you see how weird that is?” 

“It’s still her. You’ll see.” 

“You didn’t even tell me you were going to try it,” Muriel said, wounded. 

“I… I wasn’t going to try it until I realized it was something that might actually work. I took a chance and, seeing her again, holding her hand… I don’t regret it.”

“She never got a say in it,” Muriel retorted, “What if she had made her peace with it. What if she accepted the consequences of her decision to stay?” 

“Is that really what you tell yourself? I know you, Muriel. You feel just as guilty and responsible for her death as I do. And you and I both know she stayed behind because she wanted to help but she didn’t want to  _ die _ .” Asra’s words were coming hard and fast, and Muriel felt a squeezing pain in his chest. Asra was right, Muriel did feel responsible. 

“I could feel her in those last days. Through the connections in our magic, I knew something was wrong. I know she felt scared and alone. I… I couldn’t let her die thinking she was alone…” Asra, looked up at his friend who looked anguished. Asra knew he had been carving open old wounds, and a lot of what he was saying was to make himself feel better about the complicated decision he had made without any input from his friends. He didn’t know what he would do with himself if he started to feel like he’d made the wrong decision. What could he possibly do about that now?

“Muriel, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you,” Asra tried. Muriel just sighed deeply. 

“I’m going home,” he said again. 

“I… Alright,” Asra stepped out of the way of the door. 

Muriel stepped through the door but stopped at the bottom of the steps. “I… I want it to be her, Asra. I want to feel the way you do about her now. But I don’t… I just want time to think about it…“

“I won’t let her forget about you,” Asra said quietly. “I know you don’t trust what’s happening but I know you care about Adalaide and I promise I won’t let her forget you.” 

Muriel reached into his pocket and handed something to Asra. It was a hunk of golden brown resin about the size of a grape, strung onto a leather cord. Asra recognized it as a necklace Laide used to wear all the time. It was a piece of myrrh. Asra wondered how long Muriel had been holding on to it. 

“She left it at the hut. She decided to stop wearing it because she thought... She had finally learned to overcome the spell and she didn’t need it anymore,” Muriel looked hard at the ground. “Give it back to her.”

Muriel turned around and walked towards the forest, not looking back. Asra watched him from the door, heart in his throat, until Muriel turned a corner and disappeared. 


	2. Bad Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big warning for graphic depictions of self harm in this chapter.

Asra walked back towards the shop, bags of groceries slung over his shoulder. The temperature had dropped considerably as autumn was in full swing. It had been three months since Asra had found Adalaide in the woods, sitting about a foot away from where she had been buried. 

He still didn’t know the specifics of how she returned to the realm of the living, aside from it being part of a deal he had made with the Arcana. But he was thrilled to have her back, and even though her memories had been lost and she had to relearn things like walking and speaking, it didn’t dampen the fact that he had her back. She was home again. 

Adalaide had made exceptional progress, mostly do to Adalaide’s own persistence. She was determined from the beginning to be able to walk again. Asra helped her every day, walking her slowly around the room, helping her up every time she stumbled and trying to be generally encouraging whenever she got frustrated, which was frequently. He couldn’t imagine how she felt, feeling like she  _ should _ be able to do something and not being able to will her body to follow through. 

She could still only stumble a few feet, but Asra always caught her trying to walk on her own. Often he would walk into a room and she would be on the floor. She could pull herself to her feet and walk if she had something to hold on to, like a table or chair, but she could not move freely. She had only just started making it up and down the stairs by scooting down them and crawling back up. One of Asra’s goals for this shopping trip was to find a walking stick for her, but he didn’t find anything suitable. He doubted she would use it anyway. She was stubborn. 

While her progress with walking was slow but steady, it seemed to be her inability to speak that was vexing her the most. She could say some single syllable words with little difficulty, but the vast majority of her speech involved her laboring through syllables. She would get frustrated and self-conscious every time she tried to speak, despite Asra assuring her that she had nothing to be ashamed of and that she was making great progress. It was not uncommon for her to trip through a word for several minutes before devolving into groans or a scream of frustration. When she did speak, she would often say things like “I’m wrong” or “won’t work” while pointing to herself. This always unsettled Asra, who didn’t want to see Adalaide feeling broken or dysfunctional. 

He couldn’t help but feel to blame for her current state.  _ It’s better than the alternative _ , he would think to himself, and he found solace in the moments when Laide would smile at him or laugh. He had to.

The one place that they had made little progress in was regaining her memories. Asra had tried asking Adalaide if she remembered who he was or anything about herself but it was slow going when they could barely communicate and she got headaches every time she thought too much about her past. But it wasn’t all for nothing. 

She may not have been able to communicate it, but Asra saw evidence that Laide was growing back into herself as a person. He had watched her pick up a sewing project she had left behind and try to continue it where she left off, and her embroidered flowers looked sloppy but not formless. When Asra pointed out that all of the paintings on her bedroom walls had been painted by her, he helped her pull out her paints and practice with them again. She would get frustrated that her hands didn’t move the way she wanted them to and that she couldn’t recreate the intricate landscapes and flowers she had before, but Asra still hung up every painting. 

More than once he had caught her singing to herself. It was wordless, just melodic sounds, but eerily beautiful. Any time she saw him, she would get self-conscious and stop. She used to sing all the time, especially to her plants. 

The recovery of her magic is where Adalaide truly excelled. Asra had caught her casting magic over the plants in her windowsill, a rainbow sheen twinkling around all of them. It seemed to come naturally to her, as though she did not realize she was using magic or that magic was not something everyone could use. Asra had been trying to formally reintroduce her to magic and spellcraft, but his guidance was hardly necessary as Adalaide did not seem to have lost touch with the deep wealth of magical energy she had once possessed. 

He was still thinking about all of the progress they had made when he arrived at the door to the shop. He could hear Laide laughing from inside and was curious to know what would have amused her so. He pushed open the door and locked eyes with his friend, sitting on the floor of the shop, laughing and covered in her own blood. 

“No,” he gasped as bags of groceries fell from his arms. He ran to Adalaide and wrestled a knife away from her, sliding it across the floor. Her laughter had quickly turned to shouts and tears.

Asra had one of her wrists in each of his hands, getting her blood all over himself. He looked down at her arms. Hundreds of horizontal slices and slashes were oozing blood. One was so deep it had exposed the layer of fat under her skin. Asra gagged and threw down her wrists. She quickly shuffled backwards and away from him, sobbing loudly. 

He had found her absentmindedly scratching at her arms before, and if he didn’t stop her in time she would sometimes break the skin, but nothing so deliberately marring. 

“Adalaide, what did you  _ do _ ?”

* * *

  
  


Adalaide had felt strange. This feeling was becoming more common the longer she was awake. She had tried to put on a brave face for Asra and practice things like painting and sewing. Seeing her do things the way she apparently used to made him smile and she could see he wanted so desperately to have her resemble what he knew her as. But the truth was, she didn’t know at all what she used to be. Adalaide pieced together her former self from things left in her bedroom. She spent days crawling across the room, trying to make out what half-finished sewing projects were meant to be, trying to decipher what the books on the shelves were about based on the pictures inside. So far she had decided that she was someone who liked to sew and paint and draw and collect things like bones and feathers and pressed flowers and shiny rocks. She apparently liked to read books about plants and animals and crystals and the human body, and probably other things but all of the other books did not have any pictures. 

Asra had spent some nights sitting on the floor and identifying the crystals on the shelves to her, or telling her about the birds that the feathers had once belonged to. He told her she used to be a magician and started teaching her to use magic. It felt natural to her, a peculiar warmth that traveled through her body and manifested in things she focused on. She had managed to learn how to light the lamps in the shop using magic and once when Asra had cut his finger on a knife, she healed it without thinking. She found it fun, any time she got frustrated with the rest of her body refusing to function, to let sparks dance over her finger tips. Her magic never seemed to fail her, even if her legs and her hands and her words did. 

Despite all of the good times, they were often outweighed by bad moments. Moments of pure anguish, confusion, sorrow, or guilt. Adalaide didn’t know why she was in that grove of trees the morning Asra and Muriel found her. She could not remember arriving there or anything about who she was. Asra and Muriel talked to each other like she was not there, and from that she learned that they knew her from some time before. Some time she couldn’t remember. Asra kept asking her if she understood him, and she did. She knew what all of his words meant, but she couldn’t make her mouth say the words in her head. 

The expectation to revert to her former self, even though Asra and Muriel had never officially said they expected this of her, was a lot to bear, and Adalaide often felt empty and anxious because of it. She felt like there was always something to be done but she couldn’t figure out what it was she needed to do. She felt that, if she could just remember that one thing that she needed to do, she would feel better. 

She had started scratching at her arms and legs. It had started with her just rubbing her hands over her body. Something about herself felt so foreign, and that compounded with the knowledge that, in her current state, she  _ was _ foreign, made the fact that she existed in her own body a strange experience. She liked holding Asra’s hands or running her fingers up Faust’s back for the same reasons. The fact that they existed in these forms and had full control over their bodies in tandem with their minds was mystical to her. She craved that control. 

That morning, Adalaide had woken up to an empty shop. She tried yelling Asra’s name- a stilted croak- but got no reply. She stood up and lurched to her door before crawling into the kitchen. The panic set in quickly. She felt a squeezing around her lungs and struggled to take a deep breath. 

_ Where did he go? Did he leave for good? Did I drive him away? _ The thoughts flooded her mind all at once. While Adalaide had learned that she cherished her alone time, and Asra had always given her the space she needed, she had never been left alone without warning before. 

She screamed. Adalaide had screamed a lot since Asra found her, mostly because words failed her. She often hoped that they would sound like the words she heard in her head but they never did. There was always a fundamental disconnect between her brain and her tongue and she was trapped in her own head. Sometimes screaming just felt good. 

_ One afternoon, Asra announced that he was going to see Muriel and that they would be back soon. When they came home, Muriel had carried me out to the banks of the river away from the town. Neither one of them told me what we were doing out there until Muriel set me down on the bank and faced me towards the river. Asra said, “I want you to scream as loud as you can and as much as you want.” I looked at him, confused as to why he brought me an hour’s walk away from home just to yell. “It’s therapeutic,” he assured me. “I know it’s hard on you to not be able to speak, and I know you get frustrated so I want you to yell and scream and do whatever you have to do to get it out of your system.” _

_ I looked out over the river. The smell of muddy water was strong and the breeze was freezing. I shrugged, took a deep breath, and screamed. It sounded like someone was strangling a particularly angry cockatoo and it made me laugh. Asra was laughing too. He yelled as well and we took turns laughing and yelling at the river. I looked back at Muriel expectantly. He always looked to me like he could use a good scream.  _

_ “This is too weird,” he said, but a small smile flickered over his lips.  _

But this moment was not like at the river. No one was around. Adalaide sat on the floor and rocked back and forth. She scratched at her arms but they felt numb. Her eyes roved around the room in a frenzy. Something glinting in the sun under the kitchen window caught her attention. A small paring knife. She stood up and clutched at the counter to retain her balance. She grabbed the knife and thumped back down to the floor. 

She remembered when Asra cut his finger chopping vegetables. She tentatively swiped the knife over her arm. It felt like nothing for a second, but Adalaide gasped in pain as the blood started to surface. She held her hand over the wound and healed it. All that was left was a few drops of smeared blood and a thin pink scar. 

Adalaide looked at the scar. _I didn’t have that before. That’s new._ _That’s_ mine. _Not the old me, but me now,_ she thought. Something clicked. From that point she was like a man possessed. She started swiping wantonly at her arms, leaving horizontal scars of all sizes and covering her arms in her own hot, sticky blood. She started laughing. She couldn’t stop herself. She was gasping in pain but she also felt an intense relief. She had finally found a way to overcome the nagging feeling in her brain. She felt like she had taken her former self and set her on fire. There had not been a scar on her body, but now she would be covered in them. For the first time since learning what she was she felt in control. That is, until Asra walked in. 

He took one look at her and dumped all of his bags in the doorway and sprinted towards her. He snatched the knife out of her hand and slid it across the floor, away from her. Adalaide watched Asra as he grabbed both of her wrists. She saw him gag as he looked at her. Nothing Adalaide had done to herself felt as bad as seeing Asra look so disgusted with her. He said something but she didn’t hear him over the sound of her own sobs. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she wanted to say, but it came out garbled and messy. 

She squirmed away from him, dripping blood on the floor. 

Asra crawled next to her and held his hands over her arms. 

“No!” Adalaide shouted and tried to push him away with her foot. 

“Laide, please,” Asra sobbed, “let me help you.”

“Th-th… Is… Sss… My…” She stuttered. 

Asra just stared at her.  _ This is mine?  _

Adalaide held her hand over one arm and closed her eyes. Golden dust apparated and twinkled over her skin, sealing up cuts and leaving behind deep pink scars. She repeated the process on her other arm. Asra got up and returned with a wet rag. He looked at her expectantly and she relinquished control of her arms over to him so he could wipe the blood off. 

Asra looked stricken. He had no idea what he had walked into, and Laide was in no state to tell him about it. He rose, and cleaned her blood off of the rag before hanging it back up. When he turned back to her, her breathing was still ragged but she had quieted down. She was running her fingertips over her arms feeling the little bumps and ridges left by her scars. There was a faint smile on her face. 

Asra felt sick. 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow we really did make the second chapter irredeemable angst, huh


	3. Sorry

“Why…are we…co-coming…here?” Adalaide asked, “He…does-n’...like me...“

Asra walked through the woods, Adalaide clinging to his hand. She had gotten much better at walking but the deep winter snow made her feel unbalanced. 

“Of course he likes you, he’s just not used to you yet. When you...left, he wasn’t expecting you to ever come back. Muriel will be so proud of all the progress you’ve made,” Asra said, as he helped Laide step over a log hidden in the snow. He did not sound like he believed in the words he was saying. 

Adalaide looked down at her arms. She knew why. Asra had struggled to look her in the eyes for days after that afternoon on the kitchen floor. 

Adalaide felt horrible about what she had done. It was frustrating to have finally found her sense of personal autonomy, only to have it wound the people around her. She had cried until her head hurt, but Asra didn’t comfort her the way he usually did. After a week of the dismal atmosphere she had cultivated, she had laid on her bedroom floor all night and looked up at her ceiling. Gauzy scarves and shawls in different colors had been tacked there along with paper lanterns, folded paper swans, and strings of bells and chimes hung between them. She gazed into them and thought about the person who collected or made all of them, and meticulously hung them up.  _ She must have been fun _ , Laide thought.

As she sprawled there she repeated two words to herself until they were no longer words, but simple sounds she could form. They didn’t sound very good, but they were better by far than most of her limited vocabulary. 

The next morning she had shambled to the table and sat down in the chair next to Asra’s. He was drinking tea and pouring over a spread of tarot cards. When he set down his cup and shuffled his cards back into the deck, he looked at her. “Good morning,” he said and he tried his best to smile at her. 

Adalaide took his hand gently in both of hers and looked him in the eyes. She took a deep breath and repeated what she practiced: “I’m…sor-ry.”

Asra looked shocked and thrilled. “That was the best I’ve heard you speak!” He hugged her tightly, and Adalaide rolled her eyes. She appreciated his enthusiasm but she was trying to apologize. 

“As...ra,” she pulled away from his embrace, “I’m…sorry.”

He squeezed her hand, “Me too.”

Adalaide ran into Asra’s back, not realizing they had reached their destination. She looked up at the massive tree on top of the hut. She had been to Muriel’s hut a couple of times before, but that day the tree looked exceptionally eerie and imposing, bare of all of its leaves. 

She followed Asra inside. Despite the chilly winter air outside, inside the hut was warm. Muriel was not inside when they arrived, but Inanna rose from her spot in front of the fire and greeted her guests. She snuffled Adalaide’s hand happily and headbutted her legs. Laide knelt down and scratched behind Inanna’s ears. “Hel-lo…pretty...girl,” she cooed to the massive wolf. 

The door swung open and Muriel walked in carrying firewood. He set it down in a pile near the door. He took off his heavy cloak and hung it on a hook. Inanna padded over to him and whuffed lovingly. He ran his hand down her back.

“Hello, Muriel,” Asra said, breaking the silence. “We wanted to show you how well Laide is walking.”

Adalaide walked in a large circle around the room. She no longer needed a support to walk over even ground. 

“I’m also…talking better,” Laide pointed out. 

Muriel wasn’t saying anything. He was standing rigid, staring at Adalaide. It only took two of his long steps to cross the room to where she was standing. She backed away from him, frightened by his uncharacteristic forwardness. He reached out and grabbed her arm.

“Addie… What happened to you?” He said quietly. Concern turned to rage as his head whipped around to face Asra, his green eyes flashing. His grip on her arm tightened unconsciously. “What happened to her?” he asked with an intensity Adalaide had never heard before. 

Adalaide let out a whimper and tried to pull her arm away. Muriel looked shocked and dropped it like she had burned him. For a moment they just stared at each other in shock. Muriel shuffled backwards and landed heavily onto his cot. He held is head in his hands.

“You said you could keep her safe…”

“Muriel, I-” 

“It’s not…” Laide interrupted, “his fault.” She stepped tentatively towards Muriel, who was still hanging his head. She reached out to touch his arm, but he pulled away. “It’s not…your fault either. I did it…myself.”

Muriel looked at her like she had struck him. “Why?” He looked to her and then to Asra. Asra just stared, his mouth opening and closing. 

“I’m…trapped,” Adalaide said, pulling his attention back to herself. “It’s like I…woke up…in another person’s body…and everyone…knew her but…me.”

Asra looked stricken by the statement. 

“These,” Adalaide shook her arms out in front of her for emphasis, “make me…a new…person.” 

“This is mine,” Asra said softly. Muriel and Adalaide both looked at him, confused. “That’s what you told me the day you…” he waved his hand in a circular gesture towards her arms. “I had tried to heal you but you wouldn’t let me. You did it yourself and you told me ‘this is mine.’ I didn’t know what you meant, but now I think I understand.” 

“I’m trying…so hard…to be good,” her words were coming slowly now, through tears. “But I- I’m…not what you want.”

Inanna walked around the table to Adalaide and pressed her fluffy head against Laide’s legs. Adalaide knelt down and buried her face in the soft fur around the wolf’s neck. Inanna leaned into the touch, sensing her pain. After a few seconds, Adalaide lifted her head again. 

“I feel…guilty…that I can’t make you…happy again.” Asra had come to kneel down where Adalaide was sitting. He rubbed a slender hand over her shoulder comfortingly. 

“You do make us happy, Laide. You make me so unbelievably happy and having you back is… Incredible. I never thought I’d get to see you again, but you’re back now. I don’t need you to be the way you were before, I just need you to be here and to be safe.”

Adalaide wasn’t looking at Asra, though she heard what he was telling her and it did make her feel a bit better. She was looking at Muriel. She had been mostly talking to him. She had gathered over the weeks that she made Muriel uncomfortable, and that he thought there was something wrong with her. 

“It’s not important for you to make me happy.” Muriel had meant this to be comforting. It was his way of saying ‘don’t worry about me’, but it didn’t have the desired effect. 

Adalaide glanced down again. “You made me happy,” she said. Muriel shifted uncomfortably at this. “I found…drawings of you…in my room. I have…pressed flowers…forget-me-nots. I think they’re…from you.”

Muriel blushed intensely. It was true, she didn’t make him happy and he was ashamed of that, but he was no stranger to shame it didn’t change a thing. He couldn’t bring himself to be comfortable around her anymore. He knew the Arcana were powerful, but he had never heard of someone coming  _ back from the dead. _ He knew Asra was a powerful magician, and that he loved Adalaide but Muriel had learned on his own that all the love in the world could not bring anyone back. What if the Adalaide in front of him was just an elaborate ghost, or a very docile undead? He wasn’t sure whether the undead could be docile...

He couldn’t stop himself from envisioning terrible things when he looked at her. What if he got close to her, and when he wasn’t suspecting it, she turned to dust and disappeared all over again? What if he touched her and her arm fell off? The thoughts were childish, but he was in uncharted emotional territory. What is he supposed to think when someone comes back from the dead?

Adalaide cut into his thoughts. He hoped his facial expressions had not betrayed his thoughts, but Addie looked at him with big watery eyes and said shakily: “I’m not…a monster…” 

“Of course you’re not,” Asra said lovingly. He was stroking tears off of her face, but she was still just staring straight at Muriel, her fists balled. Asra stood up and beckoned Muriel to the other side of the room. “Can I talk to you,  _ over here _ ?” Asra pressed. Muriel obliged skeptically. Asra spoke in hushed whispers to Muriel and Adalaide just sat back on the floor and stroked Inanna’s fur. 

_ One day when Asra was letting me practice walking outside, he took me to the marketplace in the city. We passed a little boy trying to get his mother’s attention by pulling on her skirts and shouting her name, but she was busy talking to the shopkeeper. I think she was buying a shawl? But she kept shushing her son and saying “Quiet, sweetie, the adults are talking.” That’s what this is, I think.  _

“Mommy…and daddy…are fighting about…me, aren’t they…girl?” She said to Inanna, just loud enough for her friends on the other side of the small room to hear. She looked over to Asra and Muriel who were still whispering and glancing over at her. She rolled her eyes. 

They walked back over to her. Asra looked grave as he sat down near Adalaide on the floor of the hut. Muriel returned to his cot. “We want to tell you something, and I want you to stop me if you start to get a headache, okay?” Asra said. 

Adalaide nodded. She knew this meant a talk about the memories she lost. She wanted desperately to know about her past self, despite how deeply she tried to divorce herself from it. She stared at Asra expectantly while he tried to find the words to begin. 

“I know you’re feeling a lot of pressure from us, and I want you to know that it was never our intention to put that on you,” Asra began. He took Adalaide’s hand. “You were our best friend, Laide, and not very long ago you went away to a place where neither one of us could follow. We didn’t realize until it was too late. I made a deal with the Arcana to...bring you back.”

Adalaide thought about the Arcana. Asra had showed her his deck of tarot cards and tried to teach her the different personas and meanings of the cards. Asra continued, “When we found you it was a dream come true. I never thought I would see you again. But when we found you, you had lost all of your memories. You know this part. Are you following? Do you feel okay?” Asra asked her. 

She nodded, but her head raged. She concentrated on not letting her pain show on her face. She wanted to know. “But where...did I go...that I lost...all of my mem-ories? Where could...I have gone...that you couldn’t...follow me and...come get me?”

Asra looked at Muriel who looked uncomfortable. “Well, the red plague was happening in Vesuvia. I wanted to leave town, but you wanted to stay and help the people. You wanted to try to find a cure. I left and you stayed behind,” Asra said, his voice starting to betray him. His eyes fell to the floor, “I should have been more insistent that you come with me.”

“It’s my fault,” Muriel finally spoke. “I was here the whole time. I should have been checking in… But I spent all of my time avoiding everyone… and hiding. I didn’t even notice you were gone until it was too late.” The pain on his face was plain. 

“If I...didn’t want to go...then it’s not...your fault...that I stayed,” Adalaide said slowly. She felt like her brain was boiling. “But if...you didn’t...want me to...go...why are you...so weird about...me...coming...back?”

Asra was silent. Muriel looked at the woman in front of him, a mixture of emotions on his face. Shame, anger, fear, sadness, all flashed through his eyes in turn. “Addie… you didn’t go to another town or someplace. You  _ died _ .”

Adalaide didn’t move at all, but the tears continued to leak from her eyes. “Died,” she said flatly. She paled considerably and her hand fell slack from Asra’s. 

“Laide, are you alright?” Asra said, his voice rising with concern. Adalaide didn’t move. “Oh no… no no no!” Asra pulled Adalide to himself, “Adalaide, look at me! Please!”

Muriel stood up quickly, “What happened?”

Asra was just shaking his head and muttering under his breath. Adalaide was totally unresponsive to his touch. Her eyes were wide open but glassy and her lips were moving soundlessly, repeating the last word she had heard: died. Asra tried transferring his magic to her in an attempt to get her to respond. He felt the glowing warmth leave his hands but the body in his arms did not respond. Her aura looked as pale and dull as the rest of her body.

“Asra, what’s happening?” Muriel asked again. 

“I don’t know!” Asra responded in frustration, “Nothing I do is working, she’s not responding!” 

“What do we do?” Muriel was feeling useless in this situation. He picked up one of Addie’s limp hands in his own. It was small and cold. 

Asra looked down at the limp body of his friend for a long time. “I know someone who might be able to help us but I’m not sure where to find him, or if he’s still even in Vesuvia. He probably won’t be thrilled to see me.”

“Who?”

Asra passed Adalaide over to Muriel who scooped her up. “Please take her back to the shop and watch over her. I’m going to find Juilian.” And with that, Asra took off running towards town. 

  
  



End file.
